Judge of Character
by AveraIllisa
Summary: Being a cab driver for so long makes you a good judge of character where your clients are concerned. Cab driver POV. Oneshot.
After being a cab driver so long, he was rather confident in saying that he was a pretty good judge of character.

Sure, he was no 'genius' when it came to observation and deduction - like that curious Sherlock Holmes guy that had been the height of news back then for the several scandalous cases that he'd resolved so efficiently - but after being in the cab driving industry for some decades or so, he prided himself in being rather accurate when it came to observing and speculating facts about a person. Being stationed at London, a bustling city harboring a multitude of intriguing and enigmatic individuals, allowed him the privilege to drive around a variety of odd and curious personas, so much so that he was confident to be able to deduce the relationship or at least the profession of whoever was seated at the back of his cab. A man and a woman, seated apart with an intentional gap between them? Either shaky lovers or two people engaged in a recently instated relationship. A man who'd wrenched open the cab door with a grimace and a clouded brow after storming out a house? Most likely a man who'd just moments prior had a little domestic with a wife or girlfriend. And the two men seated upon his backseat now, arms crossed and lips down-turned in displeasure, purposefully facing away from each other? Lovers, undoubtedly, who were in the midst of a quarrel.

He watched them surreptitiously from his rear-view mirror, brow furrowed in intrigue and a trifle mirth. He surveyed the deliberate gap between their knees, the clench of the shorter man's jaw, the shadow of malcontent that creased his brows beneath his short fringe of silvery-blonde hair. The other man was exuding his vexation rather blatantly, his long white fingers drumming incessantly against the cab-door, his pale eyes dark and smoldering from where they were riveted upon the ever-shifting scenery he could glean from the car window. The air was heavy with tension, charged with an electricity that the cab-driver had familiarized and often associated with tensed and annoyed couples teetering on the brink of argument.

Once more his speculation rang true, for as soon as that comparison ran within his mind the shorter man exploded into animosity.

" _What were you thinking!?"_ he snarled at the taller man, his pent-up vexation raw and bristling the undercurrent of his words. "This man was extremely dangerous; he wouldn't blink an eye at killing you and stuffing you and placing you on display with his other victims like the sick bastard that he is - and you go chase him down without a weapon and _without my knowledge_ knowing full well it could end with you getting killed!"

The taller man, much to his credit, didn't even flinch at the venomous words. His expression remained schooled and controlled, his face a blase mask of indifference that bespoke of an equally disgruntled disposition. "I had it all under control, John; _as I keep telling you._ I would've executed the plan seamlessly and had the - what were the words you used? Oh yes - _sick bastard_ apprehended without a flaw, but then you had to march in with an entourage of those idiots from Scotland Yard and utterly ruin everything, and he almost got away."

"From what I saw, he was holding a knife to your throat when I arrived and would've happily lodged it in there if I hadn't interfered," was the shorter man's gritted-teeth response, his lips tightly compressed and his eyes shadowed and murderous. "But that wouldn't have mattered, would it? Because the work always comes first, even if you have to throw your life for it."

The taller man rolled his eyes in mock exasperation and reverted his gaze to the window. "Of course."

" _Like hell it is!"_ the blond man exclaimed in a tone scratched hoarse by his fury. In a blur of movement he'd curled his fist into the other man's coat and had wrenched him closer, the air electrified and pulsing between them. The cab driver hunched lower in his seat, his knuckles white against the steering wheel and eyes blankly fixated on the road, watching the proceedings unfold with piqued interest and strained ears. He'd no idea the subject of their conflict, perplexed by the morbid statements exchanged that seemed to involve the police and a killer and what seemed to be an attempted murder and prosecution - but he'd puzzle over the identity of these two curious individuals at a later date. Right now, he was rather more interested in whether these two blatant lovers would acknowledge how charged and tensed the atmosphere had become between them, and whether they would tame whatever fury harbored towards the other in a less violent and more...passionate undertaking.

With this in mind, the cab driver hunched his shoulders up to his ears and sealed his mouth with a purse of his lips, hoping to maintain a visage of disinterested nonchalance so he could continue to watch the drama transpiring at the backseat of the cab between two men that were clearly in love with each other.

Right now, the shorter man had the lapels of the taller man's coat bunched within his fists, grip tightened to the point in which the knuckles pressed stark white against his skin. His face was inches from his taller companion, his brow furrowed and his teeth bared, his anger emanating in waves that sent a jolt of discomfort to even the cab driver. If the taller man sensed the blatant and barely repressed fury exuding from his blond partner he did not show it, his lips tightly pursed and down-turned in displeasure, eviscerating him with his pale eyes. They were close, faces inches apart, chests heaving and eyes searing into the other with smoldering and unmistakable intensity. As they slowed to a stop before a crowded intersection the cab driver stole a glance backwards towards his clients, eyebrow cocked in heightened interest, awaiting the culmination of the drama to unfold.

"For a genius, you can be a _massive twat,"_ the shorter man hissed from behind ground teeth, his gaze dark and unwavering as he held his companion steadfast against his white-knuckled grip.

"The work must always come first, _doctor,"_ the other man replied in monotone, his otherwise flawless spiel tinged with obvious disdain.

And this was where they reached deadlock. The cab driver idly drummed his fingers against his steering wheel, eagerly awaiting what would come next, what the two would do, what actions they'd pursue to resolve this clear, aching tension that pulsated within the confines of the cab. The air was charged with an electricity that bespoke their inner passions, their eyes alight with a lacquer of smoldering animosity that barely masked the feverish want that lurked beneath.

But here they did nothing, both clearly aware of the boundaries and both equally unwilling to exceed it. They simply sat in their respective comfort zones, grip tenacious against the other but equally reluctant in the action of letting go or pulling the other forward. They had reached a level of impasse that neither were willing cross, the electricity churning and writhing through the air in apparent defiance at being contained.

The cab driver's shoulders slumped in exasperation, barely stifling the urge to yell at them to _just do it already._ The air in his cab was heavy with tension, and if they didn't release it soon he was liable to just screech to a halt by the pavement and kick the both of them out to relieve the atmosphere of some of the uncomfortable pressure. But then the stoplight ahead sparked green and the cars before him began to shift, and an idea began to formulate in his mind, so flawless would be the execution that the cab driver had to resist the urge to grin in mischief.

He rammed his foot upon the acceleration and yanked the wheel towards the left. Tires screeched against the asphalt as the car was abruptly jolted into a sharp turn, the momentum surging forwards to shove the shorter man of the duo onto his taller companion. With a dull thud and an exchange of surprised grunts, the brunette found himself sprawled unbecomingly across the leather backseat of the cab with his blond friend looming over him, his arms braced on either sides of his head to prevent himself from falling face-first onto his friend. The awkward position had both men going rigid in apparent shock, processing what had happened and how naturally they'd assumed their positions in the face of that abrupt turn.

There was a moment of awkwardness when they both merely stared at each other, blank-faced and bemused.

A moment that was, thankfully, short-lived.

But in one quick movement they'd seized hold of the other, hauling their bodies together to close the gap between their lips with evident zeal. Their mouths met with enthusiasm, with the shorter man delving his fingers into the other man's hair whilst his friend slung his arms across his neck to squash their lips more fervently together. It was a session charged with liberating passion, fingers dipping under shirt hems and teasing at skin, their lips moist and heated against the other in a way that made even the match-making cab driver color in mortification.

Luckily, the visage of Baker Street was quick to materialize as the two men broke apart, flushed and panting from their ardent snogging session. With a stutter the cab driver alerted them of their destination, cheeks aflame from being privy to such a passionate and intimate scene. With a grin at his ruffled companion the shorter man pushed himself upright, thanked him and paid the fare, and stepped out of the cab with his hand outstretched towards the backseat to haul his dazed friend out onto the pavement. When the door slammed shut behind their exit and the cab driver began to maneuver his vehicle away from the curb, he stole one last look backwards at the curious pair that had occupied his cab, his heart warming at the sight his eyes met - the shorter man had curled an arm around the taller man's waist, lips quirked into a grin at his brunette companion's evidently flushed cheeks and embarrassed posture, and surged upwards to kiss him tentatively on the lips and chase away his discomfort. Their fingers sought each other instinctively and linked, their palms pressed close, before exchanging sheepish smiles and venturing into the flat of 221B Baker Street, closing the door behind them with a click of finality.

The cab driver returned his attention back onto the road, his eyes gleaming and his smile bright. He was observant, all right - he always knew he had a good eye where couples were involved. Whether they were fighting or holding hands or holding knives to each other's throats, the gleam within their eyes was always a telltale sign of their relationship status. And not only did he correctly guess the relationship of the two men in his cab, he'd also apparently helped them make-up a heated argument they were having at the backseat of his cab, resolving their issue with a simple turn of the vehicle.

Let's see that Sherlock Holmes guy try to do _that._


End file.
